


Late-Night Psychoanalysis With The Flighty Broad

by AOrange



Series: Fruity Rumpus Afterlife Road Trip [12]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Meteorstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AOrange/pseuds/AOrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ancient Strider Tradition dictates that the solution to any and all emergencies is a box of poptarts, no matter where or when you are in paradox space. Rose, of course, figures there's a deeper cause to your recent onslaught of nightmares and the worst part is, she's not entirely wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late-Night Psychoanalysis With The Flighty Broad

You never really had nightmares as a kid. Sure, you had the occasional bad dream but so did everyone. They were usually about complete bs that seemed important at the time, like monsters and demons and shit, y'know, the same kind every six year old has once in a while. 

That's what Bro always told you anyway. Everyone has shitty dreams, little man, ain't nothing to get yourself wrapped up in. When you were six, he'd let you crawl into bed with him because even the coolest kids get scared sometimes. He'd put in the effort to drag himself back into consciousness at the sound of your sniffles and listen to the story from the beginning and you don't think he ever kicked your ass back to your own room. He could be a fucking asshole during the day, with the smuppets and the hidden cameras and the neverending strifes, but put a crying kid in front of him? The guy was a complete pushover. 

When you were eight you'd had a dream about the world ending. It seems trivial as shit in retrospect, because you've seen the world end and you're not doing too badly as far as things go. But you'd stayed up late watching the first Saw movie and that probably had a lot to do with you waking up in a cold sweat well before dawn. Bro hadn't even asked. He'd just thrown one arm out to the side and held up the sheets with the other, and you'd settled into the crook of his arm and let loose with what was probably a pretty good story. You don't remember the details. What you do remember is Bro letting you cling to his chest as tightly as your stupid, small, eight year old hands would let you, because if the world was really ending you had no plans to go alone. 

For someone who was a pretty shitty brother, Bro made an okay dad. 

Bro's fucking dead though, you tell yourself. Dead as a bag of fucking doornails. You don't know what doornails are but you know that he is more dead than just one of them and you need a bag of doornails to describe how dead he is right now. He's dead, the world's ended, and you're somewhere out in fucking paradox space with an all too keen sense of how much longer you're going to be stuck here. 

You're still trying to piece together the nightmare. You've only been awake for a minute forty three seconds but that's long enough that the details have slipped away. Something about more people dying, over and over, but you don't give a fuck about the details. You've seen enough people die during your waking hours, you're not about to put up with that shit while you sleep. 

It's two eighteen in the morning. 

With all the energy of an eighty year old sloth, you haul yourself out of bed and down the hall to the transportalizer. The last time you checked there was a box of Brown Cinnamon Sugar poptarts hidden in the kitchen block, at the back of the top cabinet where no one else would bother looking. Fuck the strawberry ones on your desk, you need the sugars right now. And a glass of water. You need water more than that retarded ancestor of Karkat's needs a punch in the throat. 

The kitchen is dark when you walk in, like it should be after two in the morning. You crack open the fridge and let the soft light fill the immediate area, just bright enough to send the shadows flying but not strong enough to make you want to rip your eyes out. You pause, just to make sure that no one followed you, then pull open the cupboard door to find your stash. You take one package from the box and put the rest back into their hiding spot behind the bran cereal. No one fucking likes bran cereal and you're sure as fuck no one goes looking for bran cereal in the top cupboard. You toss the single pack of poptarts onto the counter.

Leaving the fridge door open for too long is a shitty move, you know that, so you kick it closed and flick on the bulb above the stovetop instead. It's just bright enough to light up most of the kitchen and that's about all you can deal with at this time of morning. With your elbows resting on the edge of the sink, you fill a glass with cool water and down it in three mouthfuls. When the water runs warm you shove your face under the faucet, only half hoping that you succeed in not drowning yourself. 

It takes you longer than it should to remember to breathe. 

You switch the water off and stay there with your head in the sink, water running off your nose, the drips echoing off the stainless steel as you assure yourself that it is one hundred percent water and not tears. Dave Strider does not cry because of a fucking dream. 

You run a hand over your face to wipe away as much remaining water as you can before you let yourself stand upright. You fill the glass again, after letting the tap run back to ice-cold, and pick up your poptarts. 

You knew something would fucking go wrong if you left your bedroom and you're pretty sure someone needs to give you an award for not dropping the glass like bitches always do when they're surprised in movies. You deserve a sash, at least, and you wouldn't say no to a crown. 

Your fucking sister is sitting at the table. 

It's two thirty six in the morning and Rose is sitting at the kitchen table as if she's waiting for the chance to dish out a plate of shut the fuck up Dave. 

DAVE: yo rosie its the middle of the night why the fuck are you here   
ROSE: It's a Seer thing. I just had a hunch that something was going to happen tonight.   
DAVE: fucking god powers   
ROSE: You are aware that your God Tier powers provide you with a perfectly serviceable and comfortable outfit that we have come to refer to, colloquially, as 'God pj's'.   
DAVE: ive heard of them   
ROSE: So why are you lacking them?   
DAVE: one because i had a fucking shower then went to bed  
DAVE: two its two thirty eight in the morning no one else should be awake anyway  
DAVE: three shut the fuck up   
ROSE: The usual whirlwind bullshit routine aside, are you alright?   
DAVE: fuckin peachy  
DAVE: poptart

You take a seat opposite her but can't help wondering how fucking long she was sitting there in there dark. More to the point, what the fuck was she even doing in the dark? She couldn't have been reading and since her personal night-light is nowhere to be seen, you chalk it up to a mystery that's never going to be solved. 

ROSE: No, thank you. I assume there's some significance to the fact you're eating a cinnamon sugar poptart at two thirty in the morning, in your underwear?  
DAVE: nope  
DAVE: regular occurrence  
DAVE: and its two thirty nine twenty six seconds  
ROSE: Yeah, I don't really care, you know that. For a second time, are you alright?  
DAVE: for the second time i told you im just peachy  
ROSE: You're not even trying anymore, are you?  
DAVE: not really  
DAVE: poptart  
ROSE: No, you eat them both. Clearly they're giving you some sense of comfort.  
DAVE: please dont pull out your flighty broads guide to home psychoanalysis right now  
DAVE: im not exactly dressed for the occasion  
DAVE: and dont we need a couch or something for me and a moustache for you  
DAVE: because if were doing this shit were not half assing it  
DAVE: and i dont think ive got the boonbucks to pay for this shit  
DAVE: you probably charge a fortune for this shit  
ROSE: Shut the fuck up and answer my original question.  
DAVE: rose  
ROSE: David.  
DAVE: what no  
DAVE: dont start that shit thats not even my fucking name  
DAVE: its nothing important  
DAVE: your spidey senses should not have been tingling  
ROSE: Yes, that's exactly the same kind of intuition I have. Peter Parker and I share more common ground than you think.  
DAVE: can i just go back to bed  
ROSE: No. No, I don't think so.  
DAVE: well fuck you too  
DAVE: shitty dream alright  
DAVE: nothing important  
DAVE: ill be fine  
ROSE: Then why are the Cinnamon Sugar poptarts the ones you went for rather than the stockpile of strawberry frosted in your respiteblock?  
DAVE: because fuck you thats why  
ROSE: Charming.   
DAVE: rosie i am nothing if not fuckin charming  
ROSE: I've noticed. Unfortunately. You are, of course, well aware of what time it is?

You are not impressed with where this conversation is heading. She's trying to wear you down with her pointless fucking questions and you know fully well that's when she'll strike. She'll go for the jugular and you and your lack of God pjs will have nowhere to fucking hide.

No wonder she's the Seer of being a manipulative bitch and you're just the douchebag of Time.

You decide to get this shit over with so you can go back to bed.

DAVE: they were the ones bro kept in his stash   
ROSE: Is it Strider tradition to keep unnecessarily large quantities of frosted poptarts on hand?   
DAVE: how the fuck else do you deal with emergencies  
DAVE: seriously  
DAVE: i keep strawberry he kept cinnamon sugar  
DAVE: big fuckin deal   
ROSE: So you're telling me in the most convoluted way imaginable that Cinnamon Sugar poptarts are the thing that brings you comfort when you're distressed?   
DAVE: sure well go with that   
ROSE: So you're distressed right now?   
DAVE: nope  
DAVE: i just woke up with a serious hankering for some delicious as fuck toaster pastries  
DAVE: aint nothing wrong with that   
ROSE: No, there ain't nothing wrong with that at all.   
DAVE: are you seriously mocking me in my moment of need   
ROSE: Are you having a moment of need?   
DAVE: i didnt say anything about that  
DAVE: where the fuck are you pulling this shit from  
DAVE: you fail seer school go back to kindergarten and start over   
ROSE: Then explain to me why you're here eating cinnamon sugar poptarts, to which you've already alluded the fact they were your brother's favourite kind.   
DAVE: aint saying shit rosie   
ROSE: Dave, it's the middle of the night and you already said you had a shitty dream.  
ROSE: Spill.   
DAVE: cant i just go to bed seriously  
DAVE: its no big deal   
ROSE: I think it's a bigger deal than you're trying to let on.   
DAVE: might be  
DAVE: doesnt mean im going to sit here and spill my guts  
DAVE: unless youve got plans to slice my stomach open  
DAVE: yknow velociraptor style  
DAVE: shit were in the kitchen too  
DAVE: better watch out  
DAVE: raptors love kitchens  
DAVE: cant get the fuckers out  
DAVE: maybe i should fuck off to the computer lab  
DAVE: theres a shitty idea if i ever heard one  
DAVE: the locks arent even working and we dont have a computer guy  
DAVE: wheres egbert when you need him  
DAVE: even vantas would do i guess  
DAVE: no fuck him id prefer to be eaten by the fucking raptors  
DAVE: maybe if we just wait a while well see whats his face in a dream bubble  
DAVE: yknow  
DAVE: psychic powers guy  
DAVE: like cyclops but not  
DAVE: sollux  
DAVE: hell sort the fucking lab out and get the locks working  
DAVE: and if were in a dream bubble well probably see that fucking douchebag too  
DAVE: eridan with the fucking gun  
DAVE: theyll sort this shit out  
DAVE: like honestly id prefer jade shes a fuckin crack shot but whatever  
DAVE: ill take what i can get because i know for a fucking fact that i prefer my guts inside my stomach   
ROSE: It was a 'wake up in a cold sweat'-tier nightmare, wasn't it?   
DAVE: ive been living this shit for seven months  
DAVE: i just want to go the fuck home

That's it. That's all you want right now. You're halfway through the second poptart even though they're unnaturally dry. When you try to wash the taste away by gulping down your glass of water as fast as possible, you're convinced you're drinking quicksand. 

You fight all urges to pull a disgusted face as you return the glass to the table. 

DAVE: bluh   
ROSE: And you think that no one else does? That wanting to get off this rock is a desire unique to you?   
DAVE: do you want to go home   
ROSE: I'm not sure. Right now, no. Have I wanted to go back to before the game? Yes, at times.   
DAVE: yeah but now youve got an alien girlfriend   
ROSE: So do you.   
DAVE: yeah but youre like   
DAVE: aww yeah alien girlfriend lets get fuckin intergalactically multicultural up in here  
DAVE: but i think im still a bit  
DAVE: holy fuck my girlfriend is a fucking alien  
DAVE: you feel me   
ROSE: Somewhat.   
DAVE: you died   
ROSE: What.   
DAVE: you died for real  
DAVE: like not a god death a violent death death  
DAVE: so did everyone here  
DAVE: at first i thought it was just gamzee going apeshit  
DAVE: because you were dead in that chair over there that you like  
DAVE: so i waited but you didnt respawn  
DAVE: it was hours or some shit  
DAVE: i dont know because i couldnt keep track  
DAVE: i went to find him or something because yknow avenge thy sister or whatever  
DAVE: can town was home to more murders per capita than fuckin detroit and by that i mean all the residents were fuckin dead  
DAVE: kanaya was out in the corridor thats how i knew everyone else was in there but i wont tell you about her  
DAVE: karkat and the murderclown were lying on the floor fucking limbs torn off and shit and im pretty sure he wouldnt do that to karkat  
DAVE: and i dont think he could have ripped both of his arms off  
DAVE: like i think thats just impossible  
DAVE: tz was dead too  
DAVE: i think shed been beaten or something but she was face down and i didnt exactly take the time to look properly  
DAVE: even the goddamn mayor was murderbait  
DAVE: theres four human fuckin beings left alive  
DAVE: maybe more in the new session  
DAVE: three outta twelve trolls survived the game  
DAVE: i still dont know if draculina counts as alive so maybe four  
DAVE: how long until we all kick the bucket for good   
ROSE: Longer than you think.   
DAVE: how would you know for sure   
ROSE: I just know. Just like I know a lot of other things. I just know because it's my job to know.   
DAVE: but how   
ROSE: How do you know what time it is? How do you hear the clock ticking in your mind, even though it's something your ears don't process? How did you know how to create stable timeloops only hours into us first entering the Medium?   
DAVE: instinct took over i guess  
DAVE: and tz but mostly instinct   
ROSE: It's the same process. I just know some things. I don't see the future in visions, I just get a sense of what's going to happen. Instinctively, if you will, I know that we've got longer to go on the life expectancy front than you seem to think we do.   
DAVE: its not the first time   
ROSE: What isn't?   
DAVE: the dream  
DAVE: nightmare  
DAVE: whatever it was   
ROSE: What are you worried about?   
DAVE: did you not listen to anything i just said  
DAVE: were on a doomed mission  
DAVE: its game over but were still in some shitty cut scene that you have to watch  
DAVE: and it just rubs in the message that you fucked up  
DAVE: and you cant do anything to change it because youre already in the cut scene so you cant go back  
DAVE: and the only way to skip forward is to cut the fucking power  
DAVE: but we cant even do that because im pretty sure if i slit my own throat open id just respawn again   
ROSE: You didn't answer the question. What's happening right now in your life that is outside our reshuffled idea of normality? Presuming that you have accepted the fact we are both in stable relationships with aliens, that said aliens exist in the first place, and that, most importantly, we're trapped inside a fictional construct.   
DAVE: i dunno  
DAVE: i dont know  
DAVE: somethings not sitting right  
DAVE: like i know that karkat keeps his laptop clock out by thirty three seconds but he does it on purpose because he knows i can hear it ticking over at the wrong time  
DAVE: but even hes not being a complete asshole anymore  
DAVE: youre you  
DAVE: kanayas still trying to be everyones mom which is hilarious and kind of weird but whatever  
DAVE: dont even get me started on the mayor  
DAVE: and tz let me touch her boob the other day so that was pretty sweet  
DAVE: this nightmare shit is out of nowhere   
ROSE: And you're sure there's nothing that could be causing it?

You finally feel as if you've indulged her questions long enough. You know why this shit is happening now, or at least you're pretty sure why. It's mid-November and it's almost your birthday. It's still a few weeks off for now but there's a lot more to think about this year, especially since you have a pretty good understanding of how all the ectobiology shit went down. 

Bro always made jokes about his birthday being the same as yours. He'd get you sweet-ass gifts every year but he insisted that you do the same in return to the best of your abilities, what with no income and having to ask him to drive you around all the time. You stopped questioning it after a while, the coincidence that you both could actually have the same birthday. What were the chances? You just went with it. It was only in the last few years that you chalked it up to some deeper irony that you didn't have the hang of yet. You figured you'd have time to get it, because it was probably an old man thing. 

What were the chances that he hadn't been fucking with you on this one, that you did both share a birthday? It's not even fucking chance anymore, it's fact. You were both created in the same fucking lab, at the same time, and the only reason you're not him and he's not you is because his meteor got launched into the past. 

But fuck if you're going to tell Rose any of that shit. She's probably figured out by now that she and her mom shared a birthday, even if her mom didn't celebrate it on the same day. You don't think John and Jade would have figured out the same about their respective grandparents, but Rose has probably definitely got her mom all figured out by now. You're not going to tell her that you're losing your shit because of your Bro, again. 

DAVE: im bored  
DAVE: can i go to the bathroom  
DAVE: can we have class outside  
DAVE: dont you think if time travel was actually a thing someone from the future would have visited us already  
DAVE: whens the semester over   
ROSE: Okay, fine, you can go back to bed.   
DAVE: thanks

You stand up, leaving the now-empty glass and poptart wrapper on the table - someone else can deal with it later. You're fucking exhausted, now that you think about it, and you're sure you could sleep for another three days. Rose watches as you head back towards the doorway, throwing a vague wave back in her direction. You didn't exactly sign up for a surprise session of psychoanalysis, but you guess you can kind of appreciate her concern. 

Just like Bro was actually a pretty fucking awesome dad when he needed to be, Rose is shaping up to be a pretty fucking awesome sister.


End file.
